


Substratum

by SherlockPendragon501



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I’ll add more tags as I go on, I’m trying to write something that isn’t angsty, Jim has a dangerously short attention span, Jim is mischievous, Kid!Spock - Freeform, McCoy/Spock banter, Paternal McCoy, Spock is tiny, Vulcans Don’t Like Baths, kid!Jim, while Spock has a dangerously long one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-10-31 09:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17846429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockPendragon501/pseuds/SherlockPendragon501
Summary: Spock and Kirk are de-aged to five and six year olds! What does this mean for the Enterprise?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This hasn’t been edited but that’s okay because it’s fluff. Hope you enjoy!

Leonard McCoy considered himself to be ready for anything. As a doctor on the field, he had to act quickly and with few questions. He’d come to the transporter room fully equipped—a gurney and everything—having expected some sort of medical emergency from Scotty’s strange tone. He wouldn’t have been surprised if his captain and first officer had switched bodies, were missing limbs, or had both contracted a deadly disease.

 

He had definitely _not_ expected to be greeted with large, _very_ focused brown eyes looking up at him from thigh level and a whiz of sand-blond hair past his side.

 

McCoy gawked, looking back and forth between the two small children, seeing that Christine had caught the blond kid as he tried to pass through the doorway.

 

“What in the name of—is...are they…” what they looked like? Kid versions of Jim and Spock? They were wearing the correct uniforms, albeit just the now massively oversized shirts.

 

The still child, very clearly Vulcan, raised his eyebrow in an oh-so-familiar manner.

 

“Aye, sir. Or so mister Chekov tells me…” Scotty sighed, but couldn’t help the wisp of a smile that was evident on his face.

 

McCoy rounded on Chekov. “What happened?”

 

“Eet’s not as bad as it looks, I svear,” the Russian said, subtly backing away. “The Varilans say eet vill vear off in less zan month.”

 

McCoy’s eyes were wide and his face red as he tried hard not to swear in front of the kids.

 

“...How??”

 

“I vill explain later…” Chekov looked pointedly at the boys, who were now standing together, Jim having extricated himself from Chapel’s grip and stomped back over to Spock’s side.

 

McCoy nodded, giving Chekov a look that promised a serious talk later. For now, he had to take his two miniaturized friends back to the medbay and run some tests. They appeared to be in good health, but looks could be deceiving. He crouched down in front of them, trying to look friendly and approachable.

 

“Hello. My name is Doctor McCoy.” He reached his hand out, and Jim’s tiny hand caught it, somehow already sticky. Spock nodded solemnly. “You are on board the starship _Enterprise_ , and I’m the chief medical officer.” Spock nodded again and Jim clearly wasn’t paying attention. “May I ask how old the two of you are?”

 

“Six and a half!” Jim started proudly.

 

“Five years, five months, fou days and 13.6 hours.”

 

“Would you two please follow me and Ms. Chapel to the medbay so I can make sure you’re all healthy?”

 

“A check-up? Ewwwww!”

 

“My healf was vewified two Tewwan weeks ago on Vulcan.”

 

“It’s standard starship protocol, boys. And I’m a Doctor. And I’m in charge.”

 

“I don’t wanna!”

 

“As we awe unaware of what ciwcumstances have led us to be hewe, Jim, it may be advisable to comply wif the Doctor. We do not know what we may have been expwosed to or damaged by,” Spock said.

 

Jim’s head sunk back. “I thought you were on my _side.”_

 

“It also appeaws that we have no chwoice in the matter.”

 

“ _Fine._ But I’m _just_ doing it for _Spockie._ ”

 

“My name is _Spock_.”

 

McCoy’s suggestion that the boys ride on the gurney for the journey to the medbay seemed to have earned him some points in little Jim’s favor. Spock had refused, though, and kept eyeing him suspiciously.

 

“Alright, uh, Jimmy, you’ll go first. I’ll have to do a bit of research for Spock. Actually: Christine, could you handle that please? And watch the twerp while I examine Jim.”

 

“‘Twewp’?” Spock cocked his head. “A human colloquialism?”

 

“He can’t say his ‘r’s but he can say ‘colloquialism’?” McCoy muttered.

 

“Come on, sweetie, let’s give them some privacy.” Chapel outstretched her hand to lead him away, then chided herself for expecting him to take it. He was a child, but her was still a Vulcan. Christine watched him the entire time he followed her.

 

“Alright, Jimmy boy. Hop on up to the table.”

 

Jim grunted with effort as he made the climb and began swinging his legs as soon as he was properly seated, clearly eyeing the door.

 

McCoy used the time while his scanner was working to visually assess the youngster. He had wild hair and an even wilder look in his eyes, as well as cute rosy cheeks. He didn’t seem to care how high his shirt had ridden while he had scrambled into the table. Overall, he looked mischievous, and—however adorable—that did not bode well for the Enterprise.

 

Finding that he was a healthy, average, height and weight for his age, McCoy dismissed Jim and paged Christine to bring Spock. He was a bit chary to let Jim out of his sight, so he instructed Christine to lock whichever room she brought him into.

 

Chapel came into the room, shooing Spock in ahead of her. She handed him a data chip. “This is the data I could find.” McCoy understand; Vulcans didn’t share a lot of information about their biology unless it clearly proved them superior, or so he’d observed from grown-up Spock. “And I think I’ve _finally_ managed to convince him they’ve not been kidnapped.” She looked down at Spock in question.

 

“Affiwmitive, Chwistine.”

 

McCoy grimaced when he saw Christine’s heart melt all over her face. Surely he’d be immune to the tiny hobgoblin’s supposed cuteness. “Good, that’s good,” he grumbled. “Spock, c’mere.”

 

“He gives you a shot at the end!” Jim warned.

 

Spock nodded and walked forward in a perfectly straight line towards the examination table, stopping right before it. McCoy saw the little Vulcan’s eyes move up and down. The doctor had seen this enough times to know that Spock was gaging the height of the table in a ~perfect~ estimation and calculating just what he’d have to go on top of it with the minimum amount of energy expenditure. McCoy almost laughed; no matter how much he calculated, Spock simply couldn’t get past the fact that he was _too short._ Now that he really looked, Spock did seem to be quite a bit smaller than Jim. He’d said he wasn’t six...McCoy wondered why they hadn’t regressed to the same age. Spock had been a year or so older than Jim before they were transformed, so it would make sense for _Spock_ to be older, not Jim.

 

McCoy rolled his eyes and picked Spock up by the underarms himself, setting him on the table. He didn’t want to waste time.

 

Spock was clearly flustered by this, taking some time to reorganize the gigantic shirt around himself. He looked up in alarm but remained still.

 

“Sorry, buddy…” McCoy reached for his medical tricorder but didn’t find it where he’d left it. He spun around in a circle, feeling like the old man he must look like. “Huh.”

 

“Oh! Goodness, honey...give that back, please.” Christine spotted Jim quickly move his hands behind his back. Jim laughed, revealing the tricorder in his hand. He held it up like a grenade, clearly having no intention of returning it. “ _Jim,”_ Christine said more sternly, placing her hands on her hips.

 

McCoy started forward but Jim ran out of reach, giggling. “You’ll never catch me!”

 

“Listen here, you…!”

 

“Well, if it’ll keep him entertained...you do have spares,” Chapel suggested.

 

“Logical.”

 

McCoy wanted to argue—because they should _not_ be teaching Jim that he could get away with stealing things—but one thing he knew about parenting was that he and Christine should appear united so that one didn’t come off as more lenient than the other.

 

He walked over to the counter and grabbed another tricorder, trying to appear calm so that Jim wouldn’t get the satisfaction of a reaction.

 

“Make sure you get it back later, Christine.” McCoy dismissed her. He turned back to Spock, who looked like a porcelain doll as he sat perfectly still. Compared to the little Jim, little Spock was like a succulent one just had to check on every week or so to see if it was alive. Or that was _his_ impression.

 

“So, Spock-y, Spock-o….”

 

“Spock.” Spock corrected politely, puzzled by the apparent human tendency to add syllables to the end of his name. While Jim Kirk had been repeatedly called Jim-mie, the adult’s names he’d encountered do far did not seem to be the same. Except for ‘Scott-y’...

 

Why hadn’t he read about this in his Human Book?

 

“Whatcha you thinking about, Spock?” McCoy asked as he ran his scans.

 

“My cuwwent pwedicament.”

 

“What about it? What did Ms. Chapel tell you?”

 

“All ovf the necessawy infowmation.”

 

“And what’s the necessaRy infoRmation?”

 

“That the captain of this staw...wr... _rrr_ ship, and myself, the Fworst Office _rhr_ wewe exwposed to an alien substance on the planet Vawrril and _r_ egwessed in age. I am no longe _r_ concwerned fow...er _r_ ou….” Spock was clearly concentrating hard on forming his rs to McCoy’s subtle request.

 

“I can understand ya, Spock. Talk how you like.” McCoy was starting to enjoy hearing little Spock talk; it was such a human impairment.

 

Spock raised an eyebrow before speaking in rapid Vulcan, probably trying to prove that he _was_ proficient in language.

 

“No, nonono, not what I meant. You know that.”

 

Spock coughed a bit when he...stifled a _giggle_? McCoy smiled.

 

“I am no longerr concwerned fow ou physical wellbi-ing.”

 

“Good. That’s _my_ job,” McCoy pointed to himself. _Unfortunately…_

 

A few minutes later, after McCoy had taken Spock’s height and mass, he found that Spock was indeed quite small for his age by human or Vulcan standards. He couldn’t bring himself to take pleasure in it like he would finding a fault in the older Spock, especially something due to his hybrid physiology that clearly wasn’t his fault. At ease because he knew Spock eventually grew to a full height, he couldn’t help but find the child’s tininess rather precious. Who would think this small creature would someday be capable of crushing someone’s fist in his hand?

 

Spock took the hypo without any sound or movement, then looked to the floor. His eyebrows furrowed ever-so-slightly when he seemed to realize getting back down to the ground might be an issue.

 

McCoy smirked. “You want a hand?”

 

Spock looked back up. “I have the appwopwiate numbe _hr_ and desiwe none fuwther.”

 

McCoy sighed and rephrased. “Do you require assistance to get down from the table?”

 

Spock contemplated, then huffed, not meeting McCoy’s eye. “Affiwmitive.”

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Jimmy wondered what could possibly be keeping Doctor Mccaw and Spockie in the other room for  _ hours.  _ While he hadn’t enjoyed  _ his  _ doctor’s visit in the slightest, he hoped he hadn’t been forgotten.

 

Because the lady, Ms. Christine, was  _ no fun.  _ She was a terrible conversationalist, only asking “what’s the last thing you remember” and when she clearly wasn’t going to get an answer, “what’s your favorite color?” She reminded him of his nanny, who thought all he needed was a coloring PADD, macaroni, and a cartoon holovid. Most of the time she’d be on a comm call yelling at her boyfriend. At least that was  _ something,  _ though. Christine wouldn’t even let him leave the room! He was on a  _ Starship  _ and he absolutely  _ needed _ to explore.

 

He’d discarded the thingy he’d taken as soon as it wasn’t interesting anymore.

 

Suddenly, a man’s voice came from a square on the wall.  _ “Bring Jim back to the medbay along with some blankets. We’ll have them spend the night in the extra  room.”  _

 

“Coming now,” Chapel responded, ending the connection. “Come on, Jim. Let’s go see Spockie.”

 

Jimmy knew she was going to try and make him go to bed if he went with her, but he didn’t want to leave Spockie alone with Mccaw any longer than he had to. Spockie was weird; he talked like a computer and his face didn’t move. But he was cool and his ears were awesome. Also he was smart, and Jimmy rarely found any kids that were smart like him.

 

Before taking Christine’s hand, Jimmy sneakily licked his palm.

  
  


When he and Christine entered the “extra room” Mccaw had spoken of, Jimmy saw Spockie watching the Doctor make up beds from the opposite wall. This room was boring like the other one, but he did see some unopened cupboards above the counter. Christine immediately set about helping Mccaw, so Jimmy made his way over to stand next to Spock.

 

“Hello, Jim,” Spockie said without moving. 

 

“Hi Spockie.”

 

“Spock.”

 

Jimmy leaned in to whisper.  _ “Did he give you the shot?” _

 

“Indeed.”

 

Jimmy thought for a bit. Man, Spockie was brave. He didn’t even care about the shot!

 

_ “They’re not looking. I think we can escape now.” _

 

“Why would we wish to leave? This may be ou only chance to fowmally establish a designated place of wespite.”

 

“Wha??” Jimmy leaned in closer.  _ “Spockie, do you not know how to whisper??” _ He used this opportunity to lightly touch his forehead to the tip of Spockie’s pointed ear, which he’d been wanting to feel since he first saw them. He was surprised when Spockie jumped away immediately, looking confused.

 

“Did that hurt? I’m sorry.”

 

Mccaw whipped around, hearing Jimmy’s words. “What’re you boys doin’?”

 

“Nothing!”

 

“Waiting for you to finish arranging our sleeping quarters,” Spockie responded. “We are also privately discussing, standing, bweathing, possibly metabolizing—“

 

“That’s enough, Spock.”

 

Jimmy grinned, finding he liked Spockie’s game. “Blinking, uh...existing.” He started clapping. “Clapping...stomping! Talking...YELLING!!”

 

“GODDAMMIT, JIM! GET IN BED!” Mccaw threw the pillow he’d been holding onto the bed roughly.

 

Jim stopped, still grinning. He’d won that game. He ran over to the bed, figuring he’d pretend to go to sleep to get rid of the grownups.

 

“Spock, you too, hon!” Christine cooed.

 

Spock spoke the entire way to the other cot. “While you awe cowwect in assuming I can hear highew fwequencies than humans, it is not necessawy to waise your voice to a highew base tone when speaking to me.”

  
  


McCoy snorted. He wasn’t too fond of Christine’s baby voice either. He pulled a few hospital gowns of the smallest size from the top shelf and threw them over to the two children, expertly landing one on Spock’s head. They’d still be huge, but at least they were clean and made to be worn in bed.

 

“Those should work until we find you something better.”

  
  


Jimmy wrinkled his nose, holding up the blue fabric to examine. 

 

“These awe to function as sleeping wobes?” 

 

“Yes, Spock. Affirmitive,” Mccaw replied. “Will ya need anythin’ else?”

 

Spockie gave Mccaw a long look, like he expected Mccaw to correct himself.

 

“Basic hygiene supplies, diwections to youw facilities, shoes, and Jim Kiwk may wequire sustenance.”

 

“He means dessert, right??” If they were going to say what they wanted, dessert  _ needed _ to be on the list. It needed to be on the top. Spockie had his priorities all backwards.

 

“Shit, we forgot to feed them!” Mccaw put his hands on his head, fisting his hair. “And I wonder why I don’t have custody of Joanna…” he grumbled, turning to the replicator.

 

“Relax, Leonard, we have time. What would you two like for dinner? We’ve got anything you can ask for—perk of living on a starship.”

 

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Anything?”

 

“Two broccoli cheese quiches!” Mccaw intervened like the jerk he was.

 

“Suitable,” Spock agreed.

 

“...And after you eat  _ at least _ half of it, you can have some ice cream,” Mccaw smirked.

 

That was motivation enough for Jimmy, so long as he could pick his flavor. He watched carefully as Mccaw typed stuff into the wall and food appeared front he tiny garages. ...Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all to remain in this room all night.

 

Mccaw turned around with two steaming plates of quiche in his hands. Jimmy shifted eagerly in his seat, excited to eat dinner in his bed. Mccaw read his thoughts.

 

“I’m cool, but I’m not that cool. Come sit down.”

 

Jimmy rolled out of his new bed, trying to maintain a glare. By the time he got into his seat, though, he couldn’t quite remember why he was glaring. The food smelled  _ really  _ good _ ,  _ and Jimmy couldn’t help himself but get excited for his very first replicated starship meal! 

 

He hopped onto the metal chair to the right of his bed, giggling happily as Mccaw pushed him forward to sit at the small table that was against the wall farthest from the door. He saw Spockie push his chair forward a bit before climbing on to avoid the same treatment.

 

When his eyes finally settled, Jimmy realized that he hadn’t fully processed it when Mccaw had said “broccoli.” He frowned, picking up his fork and carefully separating the green parts from the yellow. He saw Christine chuckle as she sat down in the third chair with a padd and stylus.

 

“I’m gonna go ‘n find some toothbrushes for ‘em…” Mccaw left the room.

 

“Awe you seawching fo discwepencies between weplicated and non-weplicated food?” Spockie asked, watching as Christine began to outline the information he had asked for.

 

Jimmy wasn’t sure what “disquepacy” meant, but it was probably just Spockie’s way of saying what he was doing. Did Spockie think that the broccolick was made differently from the rest? “Ummmmm yes.”

 

“I shall join you in youw endeavouws.” Spockie started to separate his quiche in half so he would have a pile to eat and a pile to play with, presumably, but stopped when his eye was caught once again on Christine’s padd. “Youw two-dimensional wepwesentation of this woom is highly inaccuwate.”

 

“Are you saying I’m a bad artist?” Christine laughed.

 

“Negative. I mewely wished to suggest that if one wewe to measuwe the dimensions of the woom and have the dwawing cowwespond pwopowtionately, it would be more propitious fo ou puwposes.”

 

Christine turned to face Spockie, asking him if he wanted to measure the room. Spockie responded as enthusiastically as he could, proceeding to stare intently at different points of the room, muttering under his breath. Because Christine wasn’t looking, Jimmy carefully swiped her stylus from where she left it on the table. She  _ was  _ a bad artist. He was pondering where to hide it when Mccaw came back.

 

“What’s the hobgoblin doin’?” Mccaw asked as he passed by, setting to small cosmetic bags on the table. 

 

“Mental trigonometry, I think,” Christine laughed. Mccaw made a weird face. “He’s  _measuring.”_

 

“Doesn’t look like there’s much eatin’ goin’ on…” 

 

“It’s not  _ my  _ fault there’s broccolick!” Jimmy retorted.

 

“It’s not real broccoli, Jimmy, it’s replicated.”

 

_ Hmm.  _ Jimmy supposed it didn’t count in that case. He pondered for a moment before taking a bite of the not-actual-broccolick.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think or would want to see! Next one will be from little Spock’s, perspective, I think.


	3. Chapter 3

Spock had decided that Jim Kirk was a confounding creature. He knew that humans were inherently illogical, but he never would’ve suspected such an affliction to present itself to so high a degree as he saw in this tiny human.

 

Admittedly it was...amusing...to see Doctor McCoy become so irrationally infuriated by Jim Kirk’s antics. However, he knew that from the moment he and Jim Kirk arrived in the transporter room enfolded in the same predicament, their actions would reflect on each other. Their presence was to be forever intertwined.

 

This would positively impact Jim Kirk, as Spock would be sure to conduct himself judiciously. Spock himself, however, would likely be tasked with managing Jim Kirk’s behavior as well as his own.

 

That was, if he wanted to retain his position as First Officer.

 

He was cognizant of the fact that Jim Kirk was technically his—only—commanding officer. Because age regression was clearly an issue of the body and possibly health, Spock allowed McCoy authority because of his advanced knowledge and medical override. For now, he knew he would be forced to follow his Captain as well, although as time went on, Spock was becoming increasingly certain that Jim Kirk was _not_ fit for the duties of a Starfleet captain.

  


Spock turned his head away from the door after watching Doctor McCoy and Nurse Christine leave at last. He turned again immediately when he saw Jim Kirk’s— _Captain_ Kirk’s state of complete nudity. He wondered—secondly—why Doctor McCoy had left the lights above the counter on.

 

“Why have you chosen to wemove youw sleeping gawments?” Spock asked, raising an eyebrow at the ceiling his eyes were fixated on. He was lying still on the provided cot, buried deeply in layers of blankets. He was not surprised to find that Captain Kirk had left his bed immediately after the adults’ departure, starting to become accumulated to the boy’s illogical tendencies.

 

“I,” Captain Kirk said matter-of-factly, “don’t like them.” He threw the discarded gown a few feet to accentuate his point. “And it’s _you_ r fault.”

 

Spock sat up, having to burrow through the fabric on top of him. “I fail to see the cowwelation between my actions and youw displeasuwe.”

 

“ _You_ made the grown-ups turn the tempraterature up to one thousand degrees!”

 

Spock processed for about twenty seconds while Captain Kirk began rolling his cot to the opposite side of the room.

 

“Suwly, you cannot believe we would be capable of suwviving such a tempewatuwe,” he settled for, watching Captain Kirk carefully.

 

“Wellya said one thousand numbers!” Captain Kirk said as he slammed the bed against the wall, right below the control panel to the door.

 

“I calculated the pwecise atmospheric setting that would best accommodate ouw difference in cowe body tempewatuwe as well as—Jim Kirk I do not believe that is the wisest couwse of action!” Spock swallowed that unpleasant sensation he always felt when he accidentally allowed himself to express emotion—in this case, shock and urgency—in his tone.

 

Captain Kirk’s behavior could not be permissible! He appeared to be tampering with the control panel, clearly with the intention of lifting its restrictions.

 

“We will be released at the appwopwiate time.”

 

“But it’s not even night!” Captain Kirk somehow turned the lights on.

 

“We awe in no planetary owbital, thewefowe the imposition of ‘night’ and ‘day’ on such a spacecwaft awe insignificant and inapplicable.”

 

“Huh?? Spockie, the ship isn’t in sleeping mode. I saw the hallways! No one else is asleep!!”

 

“One might assume that _half_ of the ship’s cwew is asleep while the othew half manages it. And as we awe in the medical wawrd, so it is probably active all hous of the day.”

 

“I thought you said there were no days in space! And anyways, no one seems tired.”

 

Spock bowed his head slightly. “I was in ewwor to wefewence daytime while in deep space. Fowgive me.”

 

“That’s okay! We all make mistakes! Can you help me with this?” Captain Kirk had pulled the panel off of the wall to reveal the wires beneath.

 

Spock cocked his head slightly as he carefully extricated himself from his cot and climbed to the ground. Captain Kirk did not care when he made errors in logic, and enthusiastically forgave him as if he had don’t nothing wrong. It was unfamiliar, but it left his insides feeling warm and he found he quite liked it.

 

“I am still uncertain that leaving is advisable,” Spock maintained, although he was starting to think that leaving could be inconsequential if they could prove their reasoning to the adults—or else avoid them entirely.

 

“Are you saying you can’t override the controls?”

 

Why would the Captain suggest such a thing? Why would a Vulcan with 5 years, 5 months, 4 days and 15.1 hours of practical experience be incapable of performing such a simple task…

 

Spock ran over to the Captain’s cot and used his Vulcan strength to hop up faster than ever before. His fingers were shocked slightly as he reached for the release cable, which would be unreachable for an adult with larger arms. The door slid open immediately, but Spock closed it again out of caution.

 

“Hey! I was gonna do that!” the Captain exclaimed as Spock did this.

 

“Then why did you ask fo assistance?”

 

“So that you come with me!”

 

Spock huffed. He had been told not to inform the Captain of his true position, and Spock agreed with the adult’s judgement; the Captain was unmanageable enough when he wasn’t in a position of power. Vulcans couldn’t lie, but silence was no crime.

 

Nonetheless, it was his duty to keep the Captain out of trouble.

 

“I will accompany you on the condition that you behave wespectfully.”

 

“Yay!! Let’s go!”

 

Spock wasn’t entirely sure that the Captain was acknowledging his request. He stopped the boy as he reached into the wall again.

 

“Will you allow me time to fowtify my clothing?”

  


Twenty minutes later, the two children emerged from their room in the medbay, running right to the end of one hallway to peer around the wall.

 

Spock was still wearing the light blue medical gown, but he had pulled the end of the back through his legs and up to his waist, where he secured it with another strip of fabric—from another gown from the cupboard—like a belt. He had also fashioned makeshift shoes out of the same material. They had found some sort of heavy-duty medical highlighter which Spock had used to draw two bands around his wrist to signify his rank. Jim had been astonished by this, taking the highlighter at the earliest opportunity and drawing messy rings almost all the way up his arm before Spock could confiscate it.

 

Jim himself was naked with the exception of a piece of yet another medical gown Spock had insisted to tie around his waist to protect his modesty.

 

Spock followed the captain as he zipped from wall to wall, trying to find something interesting.

 


End file.
